


No Resistance

by LateStarter58



Series: Love and Resistance: The Tom and Jess Story [1]
Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Older Woman/Younger Man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-14 22:38:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16921746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LateStarter58/pseuds/LateStarter58
Summary: ‘So thou through windows of thine age shall seeDespite of wrinkles, this thy golden time’Sonnet 3, William ShakespeareJess Hancock travels to London from her home in France for a meeting about a film, expecting to offer advice on her area of expertise, the French Resistance. But she is in for big surprise when an unexpected guest turns up, and then things start to get really interesting.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> A few notes before you begin: this was the very first fanfic ever wrote. I was inspired by reading some epically bad stuff on Wattpad, and feeling I could do better, I went away and thought about it. I had an idea, and once that had developed into a plot, I wrote for a week straight, in notebooks, sometimes in the early hours, until it was done. I think that in the five or six years since, I have developed as a writer, but I remain deeply attached to this character. She lives in my house, for one thing... There are more stories about her to come, but be warned, hers is not a tale that ends entirely happily.

_This is the life,_ Jess thought to herself as she settled a little deeper into her seat in First Class. The TGV raced across the green, flat and rather dull plains of North-western France. Trains had always been her preferred means of travel, given the choice. To her, there was still something romantic about catching the train, especially if you were crossing borders. Forty years before she had travelled by rail to the other side of Europe with her mother and she had never forgotten how magical that had seemed to her nine-year-old self.

Forty-five minutes after she had boarded, the train pulled into the station at Le Mans, and a few new passengers entered her car. A keen people-watcher, Jess spotted one of those chic, petite, immaculate French women she admired and envied in equal measure, but could never hope to emulate.  As it happened, the  quiet part of rural France Jess had settled in was not full of such people, but one still encountered them occasionally, even there. In fact, although she didn’t think so herself, Jess was actually very attractive and looked a lot younger than her age.  Despite having been single for several years and living alone in the middle of nowhere, she still made an effort with her hair, clothes and make-up. Nonetheless, she watched jealously as the stylish _Madame_ slipped into a nearby seat, murmured ‘ _Messieurs, Dames’_ to those around her, opened her laptop and began to work.

Dr Jessica Hancock had become quite familiar with this journey since she had moved to France. Several times a year she travelled by rail to visit her adult daughters who still lived in the UK. This time was a little different, however. Someone else was paying, hence the expensive seat: she was on her way to London for a meeting about an exciting project. Now, for an historian like Jess, excitement usually meant the discovery of a new source, or perhaps a cache of previously overlooked documents, but this was something else altogether. Jess could hardly contain the childish enthusiasm she was feeling: _a film!_

_A feature film, based on her last book… it was madness, but apparently true_

She gazed out of the window, trying to still the butterflies in her stomach. Since the day she had that email from her publisher it had been hard not to daydream about being on a red carpet. Not being interviewed of course, but slipping past unnoticed while the cameras whirred and everyone admired Emily Mortimer’s outfit, or Jude Law’s bottom...

Not for the first time, Jess gave silent thanks that she had pulled off the road that day five years ago when she saw that sign. After many years of holidays in France followed by a few more deciding where to look for a house, she had narrowed it down to a triangle between three cities in the North West. While on one of her several house-hunting trips, purely by chance she came across the site of a mass shooting of members of the French Resistance. She was Professor of Modern European History at Cambridge at the time, and so knew about the Resistance of course. In fact she had written a book about French history, so it was little wonder that she would want to take a look. What she couldn’t possibly know was precisely how pivotal in her life that day would prove to be.

The place was called ‘ _La Sablière’_ and was a former quarry where 27 men were summarily executed by the occupying Germans in 1941. It had the solemn, almost spooky atmosphere of so many sites of its type, and Jess had found it profoundly moving. But it was when she began to read the descriptions of the victims that the hairs on the back of her neck really began to stand up. One or two of them were doctors; Jess’s eldest daughter and son-in-law were doctors. Several were teachers; Jess was a teacher, so was her father and other family members and, naturally, many of her friends. Trade union activists were among them; Jess, her ex, her parents and many of their friends were involved in the movement. And typical of Resistance members, several of the dead had been Communists, just as Jess’s own Mum and Dad had been in 1941.

She had sat on a bench and pondered all this. But for an accident of birth, her parents, friends, everyone she knew could have been the ones tied to those posts and blindfolded. Shaken to the core, she had spent the drive back to her hotel turning an idea over and over, looking at it from every angle. By the time she was heading for the Channel Tunnel she had decided: her next book would be a history of the French Resistance for the Anglo-Saxon reader. More than anything, she wanted people to put themselves in these heroes’ shoes: what would they have done given the same situation? Watching now as the countryside disappeared behind the train at almost 200mph, Jess wondered briefly what would have happened if she hadn’t been able to convince her literary agent, James, that there was a need for this book. As it turned out, she had had a modest success with her French history written from the same perspective, and it didn’t take much persuading to get the publishers to offer her an advance. This was perfect timing as Jess had decided to hand in her notice and write full-time, and the move to France was all part of that same plan. Five years down the line, and four years since she made the move, here she was, whizzing north towards Paris, facing the slightly alarming prospect of having her name in the titles of a film, not only as the author, but as an ‘historical consultant’, whatever that meant.

Before she knew it the TGV was pulling into Montparnasse, so she gathered her belongings and disembarked. It was a beautiful July day, not too hot, and as she had plenty of time before her Eurostar left, Jess decided to walk at least part of the way to Gare du Nord. Strolling towards L’Isle de la Cité, Jess noticed that although the streets were as full of tourists as ever, it didn’t seem to matter. There was something about Paris: it always cheered her up, even though she knew she could never live there. Peace and quiet, space and countryside, that was what she had come to France for, that was what she needed, and she had it in spades in her modest village house. It was perfect for her, even if she missed Cambridge, her friends and family from time to time. She kept in touch with everyone online, people visited often and the only thing she really hated being away from was the cultural life. For the most part she was happy. She had her dogs and cats, her garden and her work. She had made a few new friends, both French and among the British who, like her, had emigrated to the area, and life was good.

Settling on a shaded bench, Jess texted her youngest daughter Sally, who was due to meet her at St Pancras.

  * **_In Paris on schedule. Will text when on ES_**



The answer came back almost immediately. Sally was like that. Except when she didn’t reply for three days, that is.

  * _OK Can’t wait to c u xxx_



They were due to dine together that evening and as Jess had been told all her expenses for a week would be paid in full, she intended to push the boat out a little and take Sally somewhere really nice. It shouldn’t be too hard to get a table early on a Tuesday night. She had looked on the net to check out the hotel the film people had booked her into and found it was really fancy and very expensive. Money was not an issue, obviously. The sum she had been paid for the film rights and what she had been offered for this consulting work had shocked her. It wasn’t exactly a fortune, but it was enough to live on for a while, modestly, if her new book didn’t sell as many copies as her last three.

Jess looked at her watch; better get on the Metro. It was too early to text Anna, her elder daughter, who was on nights. It might wake her. It was annoying that her shifts meant that they wouldn’t be able to meet while Jess was in London, but then again, this was a business trip and the meeting tomorrow involved many people and was not solely for her benefit. The producers, the director and the script-writers were going to be there as well. And a few others, judging from the length of the mailing list. Her hotel room was booked for a week, which was generous. It seemed they were keen for her to be there and wanted to make it worth her while to come. Jess was happy enough; she could spend time with Sally, who never seemed to have the leave or the money to visit her, go to a few galleries and museums and do a bit of shopping.

_This just keeps getting better,_ she thought as she slipped into her seat on the Eurostar.  It was one on its own, no need to share the table, no need to watch where her feet were. _Heaven!_ she stretched her legs. Knowing this part of the journey was rather dull, Jess fished out her iPod and headphones and set about choosing some music. As usual, this took a while, but eventually she settled on some Schubert, then opened her briefcase and re-read the emails she had printed out.

_“We are so glad you can come and we hope you will consider helping us during the pre-production and filming processes. Your input would be invaluable to the historical accuracy and the success of this film.”_

Hmmm. Jess was not entirely sure what that meant. Hers was a non-fiction, historical book, and although it was written for a non-academic readership, these guys were making a _fictional_ movie, after all. She had been told that her book had inspired the idea, and that the plan was to mix up some of the real stories with a few fictional ones and amalgamate people to make a narrative. She wasn’t sure exactly how that would work, but when Jess had checked up on the people involved, their film credits looked reassuring. They wanted her there to ensure accuracy, or at least, that was what they had said, so she took comfort from that. She was so far out of her comfort zone that she was having to trust in the good intentions of strangers, and her agent’s reassurance that they could be relied upon.

She reminded herself that she wanted to ask the producer why he had chosen her book, and if it had anything to do with her only other claim to fame.  Smiling, she recalled the only other time she had been treated this royally. Just before _La Résistance: French Heroism in WWII_ was published in the United States, Jess’s agent had called her in a state of excitement. ‘ _The Daily Show_ want you,’ James had told her. ‘What, you mean Jon Stewart?’ Apparently, the book had caught someone’s eye there, and as she had a promotional trip to New York scheduled by her publisher they had requested an interview. Jess had been thrilled. And so it was that she had found herself sitting opposite ‘the most trusted broadcaster in America’, telling him the story of how she came to write the book. It had been a surreal experience, being in New York, the whole thing, and it remained a golden memory. ‘Nothing can ever top that,’ she mused, ‘although I suppose I might be in a DVD extra now’. She had to stop herself laughing out loud at that thought.

The train shot out of the Channel Tunnel and began to cross Kent. _It’s only for a week_ , she told herself. She was already missing her home and her animals. As they neared London, Jess texted Sally, checked the hotel details one more time, then readied herself for the bustle of the city. As she crossed the concourse she caught sight of her tall, blonde daughter waving and running towards her, Soon she was being hugged tightly.

‘How’s things?’ ’Oh fine,’

_Never gives much away, that one..._

‘You must be excited, Mum!’  

‘I am. It’s not what a dusty old academic expects, all this movie glamour’.  

‘It won’t be all that glamorous tomorrow, will it? I mean it’s just a meeting.’

‘I know, but the director’s coming. I’ve seen several of his films, they’re really good. He seems to specialise in real-life stories.’

‘That’s encouraging,’ Sally said.’ Anyway, let’s get you to your hotel, shall we?’

Less than an hour later they were in Jess’s room at the King’s House, a very smart ‘boutique’ place. It was more of a suite, actually, with a seating area separated from the bedroom by an archway. It was quite the poshest place Jess had ever stayed in and she loved it. Sally was playing with the TV remote while Jess unpacked.  

‘Make us a cup of tea, would you darling?’

‘Of course. You’ve got all the channels, Mum!’ Sally looked impressed.

‘That’s nice.’ Jess wasn’t bothered. She intended to be out if she could in the evenings. She wanted to pack in as much culture as possible.

‘Earl Grey?’

Tea made, they sat together on the small sofa and looked at the emails on Jess’s laptop, now connected to the hotel Wi-Fi.  

‘There are a lot of names on this mailing list, Mum!’

‘Well, when you think how many names there are on the titles of a film...’

‘True. ‘Sally looked thoughtful. ‘So, where are we going to eat?’


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the day of the meeting, and somebody keeps stealing all the oxygen in the room by smiling at Jess.

Lying in bed, trying to digest the delicious if rather rich dinner she had shared with Sally, Jess pondered on her situation. Here she was, nearly fifty, amicably divorced, living alone in France, a professional author. How on earth did that happen? Not all that many years ago she had been a housewife with not one single A-level. When her first book, _A French History for Francophobes_ , became a popular success, she had done a few interviews, and the press loved the fact that she had such an interesting back story, and it had garnered her what she expected to be her fifteen minutes of fame.

 With encouragement from her husband Chris and her boss, once she returned to work when the girls went to school, Jess had started to study part-time for a degree with the Open University. It seemed to awaken something in her.  An MA at the local Uni followed, and then she was offered the chance to do a PhD at Cambridge. The rest, as the saying goes, is history. A natural teacher, it wasn’t too long before she was offered a permanent post there. As is so often the case, sadly this professional success came at a personal cost, and her marriage began to fail. It was a source of pain, but she and Chris managed to remain good friends, which was wonderful for the girls.

The Master of her College had encouraged her to consider writing ‘popular’ history. ‘You’ve a talent for it, he told her, ‘...and we need people to read this sort of stuff, people who’ll never read AJP Taylor or Eric Hobsbawm.’ Sir Patrick had arranged for her to meet a literary agent and before the year was out she had pitched her idea and James had secured her a small advance. Then the real work had begun. Two more books later, here she was, in a swanky hotel, waiting to meet Paul Watson the famous film director (they had a mutual friend, Jess had discovered the other day, her old friend and colleague Mary), along with others, to discuss this film. Telling herself she’d better get some sleep, Jess rolled on her side and tried to still the butterflies in her stomach.

She awoke to the sound of the hotel phone ringing. After a moment’s disorientation, she answered it to hear the polite tones of the receptionist:

‘Your alarm call, Madam.’

Jess thanked him and roused herself. An hour later, she was perusing the breakfast menu in the stylish dining room. Every possible taste was catered for, too much choice if anything. It would be daft to have pastries, she could have those anytime, but she didn’t feel like full English either.

‘Fruit salad and porridge, please. With coffee.’ she told the waiter.

_Better be on the ball and don’t spill anything on this top._

Jess could be catastrophically clumsy at times, and her shapely figure didn’t help. She often spilt food and drink down her front. That must not happen today…

_No need to be nervous, it’s not a job interview. They already want you._

But she could feel the butterflies were back and they’d brought reinforcements. She decided it was a good time to text Anna, as she would be on her way home soon.

  * **_Hi darling. Hope you’re ok. Off to the meeting shortly xx_**
  * _Just got in. Horrible shift :(_



_Oh dear, not another one. A &E was tough._

  * **_Sorry to hear that. Text you later before work xxx_**



Porridge finished, Jess glanced at her watch. Plenty of time before the car arrived to pick her up. She poured herself another coffee, to steady the nerves, and scrolled through Facebook in search of distraction. Back in her room twenty minutes later, she checked her reflection as she brushed her teeth.

_Not bad for your age._

Slimmer than she’d ever been thanks to a health scare which had frightened her into a diet and exercise regime, a good hair cut with a nice colour to cover the little bit of grey, she thought she looked reasonably stylish in her pale green wide-leg trousers and linen top. London in July can be hot and sticky, and she preferred to be cool. The phone rang again: her car was waiting outside. She took a deep breath and left the room. Half an hour later she was being shown into a conference room at another, much larger upmarket hotel the other side of Hyde Park. Glancing around, she could only see one other woman, a tall blonde in her twenties, beautifully dressed and depressingly slim.Everyone else in the room seemed to be male.

_So much for equality...Oh well, we just have to keep trying._

‘Ah, Dr Hancock, so glad you could make it.’

A tall dark man in an expensive suit was walking towards her, his hand outstretched.

‘I’m Richard Di Meglio, the producer,’ he said. ‘We’ve spoken on the phone.’

‘Of course, it’s lovely to meet you in person.’ Jess shook his hand. ‘How was your journey? ‘he asked. ‘The hotel is acceptable, I hope?’ He shot a glance at the blonde, who seemed to flinch. ‘It’s fabulous,’ Jess replied. ‘And the journey was trouble-free, as usual on Eurostar.’

He beckoned the tall woman over. ‘This is Marina, my PA. Let her know if you need anything while you’re here.’ The young woman coolly handed her a card. Jess smiled encouragingly at her and was rewarded with a shy grin.

_Poor thing. Could she be new? She seems very nervous._

‘Let me introduce you to everybody.’

There seemed to be about a dozen people there, fewer than Jess had expected, which was a relief. She’d never remember all the names as it was.

‘This is Paul Watson, our director.’

A tall, wide man with grey crew-cut hair shook her hand.

‘Pleased to meet you. I really enjoyed ‘ _Hours in Hell’_.’

He seemed indifferent to her compliment.

‘We have a mutual friend, actually,’ Jess continued, ignoring his rudeness. ‘Mary Peterson, as was.’

Watson brightened. ‘Oh, you know Mary?’

 ‘Yes, we worked together for a few years before I went to Cambridge. She tells me you filled boxes together at the _CUP_ one summer.’

‘That’s right, we did. Had some laughs. I had hopes, but she was already in love.’

‘With David? Yes, they are still together’

‘Wow. Well give her my love.’

Di Meglio had been fidgeting impatiently during this exchange and took her elbow again. ‘I have someone rather special for you to meet over here’ he said, guiding her towards the corner where a group of tall men were standing and chatting amiably. He bent down and whispered in her ear: ‘We don’t usually have actors on board this early, but he sort of invited himself.’

_Actors? There isn’t even a script yet, is there?_

‘May I introduce Dr Hancock to you all?’ The producer raised his volume considerably.

‘Please, call me Jess, oh...’

The group had all turned to look at her and there he was. Cowboy boots, tight black jeans, white t-shirt and a black leather jacket which looked well-worn but expensive. The bluest eyes Jess had ever seen, cheekbones to die for, a reddish goatee and a high forehead topped with brushed-back red curls. He was reaching for her hand.

‘Tom Hiddleston.’

‘I know.’

_Oh god, did you just say that?_

‘My daughter will kill me.’

_Shut up, shut up!_

He chuckled, ‘Ehehehe’, his eyes never leaving hers.

‘Anna’s a bit of a Hiddlestoner,‘ Jess explained, her cheeks reddening.

_Very cool, well done._

‘Ah, well I’m a big fan of yours, actually.’ He was still holding her hand. She had no idea if he realised, but Jess was _very_ aware of it. Then he lifted her hand to his lips, kissed it and let it fall, slowly, almost reluctantly.

_What did he say? Had he felt it too, that tingle? And who took all the air out of the room?_

Jess was struggling to stand as her knees felt like jelly. His touch had sent a shockwave through her body.

_Grow up! You’re old enough to be his mother!_

‘I’ve read three of your books, I enjoyed them enormously, but this was my favourite.’ He was holding up a well-thumbed hard-back copy of _La Résistance_.

‘Then you’ve read the lot!’ Jess said, trying not to squeak. Her voice sounded a little strained as she struggled to keep it steady. Swallowing hard, she became aware that Richard was trying to get her attention. A plump sandy-haired man stepped towards her.

‘Hi Dr Hancock. I’m Graham Parkinson. John here...’ He nodded to a lanky man with grey hair pulled into a ponytail. ‘...we’re going to be working on the script together.’

 ‘Good to meet you. And please, all of you, call me Jess.’

She stole a glance at Tom and was mortified to find he was looking directly at her, his eyes sparkling with a good humour she recognised from his many interviews.

_Don’t let him leave without getting a photo and an autograph, or Anna will never speak to you again!_

Richard then introduced her to the others, mainly people with mysterious job titles, but also to the other woman in the room whom Jess had not spotted at first. Alexandra was the production designer, and it wasn’t surprising that Jess hadn’t noticed she was female from behind. She was very tall, with razor-cut hair streaked with several bright colours and stick-thin. Alex was dressed in a biker jacket, skinny jeans and biker-boots. Jess was reminded of Lisbet Salander.

Almost immediately after the final introductions, Richard called the meeting to order and everyone arranged themselves around the large table. Jess was mildly alarmed to see that Tom was sitting opposite her.

_It’s going to be hard to concentrate with him in my eye-line. And he’s still looking at me, oh god. Did I check the mirror properly? Have I got toothpaste on my boob or something?_

Jess needn’t have worried about her mind wandering, because the meeting was fascinating. Knowing next to nothing about the pre-production process, Jess listened intently as storylines, script ideas, casting plans and possible locations were discussed. It was eerily similar to the early planning stages of her books, sifting through ideas and options to formulate a structure which would lead to a cohesive whole. Terry, the location manager said he had already been researching and had found several promising sites including one where they might film a fictional version of the execution ‘...which started this whole thing’, as he put it, nodding at Jess.

Richard coughed.

‘I feel I should explain to everyone why Mr Hiddleston is here today.’ He was smiling with satisfaction, clearly thrilled he’d got such a big name in the room. ‘As most of you know, actors rarely get involved this early, unless they’re directing or whatever. Casting takes place much further down the line...’ He was looking at Jess, so this must have been for her benefit. ‘...but as it happens, Tom is already on board, at least provisionally.’

At this point Tom spoke for the first time since they all sat down. ‘Yes. Months ago I bumped into Graham and he told me about the project,’ he explained. ‘I’d read the book, as you know...’ He smiled at Jess. She felt her cheeks redden.

_Why does he keep doing that, it makes it so hard to breathe. And that voice…_

‘...so I emailed Richard straight away. If there was going to be a film, I wanted to be involved.’

_And again with the looking. YOU. ARE. NOT. A. TEENAGER._

Jess felt her stomach turn over.

 ‘Of course, Tom has only signed a provisional contract, if the script isn’t up to scratch...’

Richard left that hanging as he cast a stern eye in Graham and John’s direction, but then smiled. Jess noticed that the two writers exchanged a weary look. She quickly turned her eyes to Tom. He was smiling too. At her.

_Is it hot in here?_

A discreet knock heralded the arrival of coffee. Marina took charge and looked confident for the first time. It was obvious she was competent but had a demanding new boss. Jess remembered how that felt, so smiled and thanked her for her drink, and was rewarded with a grateful look. Leaving her cup on a side table, she took the opportunity to go to the ladies’ to check for any obvious reason why the most gorgeous actor in the country kept staring at her. No, no stains, nothing in her teeth, no make-up smears, nothing she could see.

‘Get a grip woman, you’re 49,’ she said to herself, out loud but softly.

 She was alarmed to hear a chuckle coming from behind her. There was the sound of a flush and Alex emerged from the cubicle. ‘I’ve noticed it too,’ the younger woman said. Jess looked into the mirror, open-mouthed.

‘Tom, I mean. He likes you.’

Jess digested this briefly. ‘Don’t be daft; I’m old enough to be his mother!’ she objected.

Alex grinned broadly. ‘I don’t think he cares,’ she responded. ‘I’ve worked with him before, and he’s not like a lot of people in this business.’ She paused, looking thoughtful. ‘He’s special. And he likes you.’ She emphasised the last word by pointing her finger at Jess via the mirror, then winked, turned on her heel and left.

_Well, of all the scenarios I might have dreamed up for today, this was most definitely not one. It can’t be right._

Jess straightened up, adjusted her hair and make-up, sprayed a drop more _No 5_ on her neck, and headed back to the conference room.

Discussions continued until they broke for lunch, a delightful buffet of salads and fruit. Jess mingled, chatting to as many people as she could, trying to get a perspective on their various roles, but Tom never seemed to be far from her side. Not that she was complaining. He smelt glorious, a mixture of his cologne and something else she couldn’t identify, and when he spoke his voice seemed to stir things in all sorts of places. She had enjoyed listening to him read poetry on _The Love Book_ app, but to hear him in real life was so much better. But it was also very distracting. Graham and John were asking her important questions and she would find her gaze drawn to Tom standing next to them, which made her thoughts wander as well. And it was infinitely worse when he spoke to her himself. He asked her something and she found her erudite answer slipping away as she looked into those eyes, or caught sight of that mouth or those cheekbones. She hoped she had recovered well enough, but she had the nagging feeling that they would all decide she was prematurely senile if she didn’t pull herself together.

‘OK folks, let’s get back to it.’ Richard was calling everyone back to the table. ‘I’ve got another meeting later,’ he continued, ‘... so we can only go on until 4pm, I’m afraid. Sorry, guys, but I’m sure we can arrange for people to get together at other times as needed.’

There was plenty of nodding at this and Marina wrote furiously on her pad. The remainder of the meeting seemed even more mysterious to Jess. There was much talk of budgets and recruitment. Tom was clearly as bored by this as Jess was puzzled by it. He was doodling on his papers, when he wasn’t looking at her, that is. Once or twice, when she caught his eye he looked down almost shyly.

_Why was that?_

She glanced over at Alex, who winked back. Jess felt the blood rushing to her cheeks again.

_Oh, for fuck's sake! This is utterly ridiculous at your age!_

Suddenly Richard was bringing the meeting to a conclusion.

 ‘So, would you be willing to work with us?’ The producer was asking as she kept Tom on the edge of her vision.

‘Sorry? Oh, you mean as a consultant?Yes, I’d love to, although I’m not sure how much help I’ll actually be.’

_Don’t let Tom leave without a pic…_

‘Nonsense! It will be really valuable. I’ll have the lawyers draw up the paperwork and send it to you. Please enjoy the rest of your time here in London. You have Marina’s contact details, right?’

He shot another hostile look at his PA. She nodded.

 ‘Good. Well Graham and John will probably be in touch, but otherwise you might not hear anything for a while. Don’t worry, this stuff takes ages.’

With that, he kissed her on both cheeks, waved to the room and swept out.

Jess looked round anxiously. Had Tom left already? She should have known better. There he was, leaning on the wall eyeing her again, scratching his chin. Graham and John drifted over to her. They exchanged business cards.

‘We’ll be in touch soon, just to run some preliminary ideas past you. We want to make sure we keep the tone authentic. Maybe we can come for a visit to a few places, just to get the atmosphere?’

‘What a good idea!’ Jess liked that, ‘I can put you up, of course.’

 She hugged them both, and they said their goodbyes. Then she became aware that Tom was next to her again.

‘I have some more questions,’ he said quietly. ‘Do you have time for a cup of tea?’


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A walk in the park, then dinner for two...

The hotel served tea in the lounge downstairs, but Jess and Tom agreed that they had been indoors quite long enough.

‘There’s a kiosk in the park that serves a nice selection,’ he told her.

‘Sounds good.’

And so it was Jess found herself walking through Hyde Park at his side. They talked about Cambridge and Aldeburgh, two places they both knew well and loved; they discovered a shared affection for the austere beauty of the Suffolk coast. Jess made Tom laugh when she described her fury the time she found out - too late - that Daniel Auteuil (one of her favourite actors) had been filming on location at Landguard Point in Felixstowe, not 10 miles from her house; she also talked about how much she missed her friend Frances Porter. Tom’s eyebrows rose.

‘She was my Classics tutor!’

‘I know. She made sure _EVERYONE_ knew when The Hollow Crown was on,’ she told him.

‘Ehehehe.’

_That laugh again. That stomach thing. Again._

‘She told me she knew you’d be a good actor. It was your great passion.’

Tom smiled shyly. ‘Yes. I spent a lot of my time at Cambridge on it. Too much, probably,’ he confessed.

Jess nudged him playfully. ‘Didn’t seem to do too much damage.’

_Good god. How much better than a double first can you get?_

The teas purchased (both Earl Grey; black for her, a dash of milk for him), they climbed a small slope in search of shade. Selecting a spot, Tom spread his jacket on the summer-hard ground for Jess to sit on.  They sat side by side, sipping their drinks in companionable silence. Jess looked out across the park from their raised vantage-point.  They could have been in any park in any city; she was reminded of the Thabor Gardens in Rennes, which she often visited, and also of the Englischer-Garten in Munich (but without the nude sun-bathers), another favourite place of hers. Couples walked hand in hand, young people threw Frisbees to one another. Families, lone dog-walkers, groups of school children, elderly ladies: all human life was there.

Tom shifted slightly, getting more of his bottom on the jacket and Jess realised their hips were touching. Suddenly the air seemed thicker. She forgot everything except that small point of contact. Then he shifted again and his right arm was touching her back as well. Struggling to keep control, she cleared her throat.

‘So, you said you had some more questions. About the Resistance?’

Tom turned towards her, breaking the hip-to-hip contact, but keeping his arm where it was. His brow furrowed thoughtfully.

‘I wanted to ask you about your research process. How did you choose which stories to include?’

Jess felt herself relax. This was her passion, her area of expertise, her comfort-zone. Before long they were both roaring with laughter as she recounted her tussles with the fierce archivist in Rennes.

‘There is a class of particularly scary French lady. They work in libraries, archives and museums and they are all petite, dark and dress entirely in black. Everywhere, from La Bibliothéque Nationale to the smallest Musée des Beaux-Arts has at least one. There must be a factory somewhere, churning them out.’

Jess smiled at the memory of Madame Olivier.

‘I understood why she was concerned at what I was up to. Brittany has a particularly glorious place in Resistance history, and here was this _Anglaise_ , wanting to rifle through everything. What was I going to write? It took several visits, much pleading, and eventually a gift of a translation of my first book to convince her that my intentions were honourable.’

‘Haven’t the French put their records online like we have?’ Tom asked. 

‘Oh yes, but there’s no substitute for looking at the real thing. And you often find a slip of paper, a ticket or a photo that hasn’t been digitised.’

She glanced at him. He was still smiling; her enthusiasm was infectious.

‘I know it’s sad, but I’m never happier than when I’m elbow-deep in dusty papers. ’She sighed. 

‘I can’t say anything. You should see how many books I have.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘Don’t! I chose my house in France because there was a room I could use as a library.’

Tom looked into her eyes intently.

_Please stop doing that, it makes me feel faint._

‘So you have a few books then? ‘

‘Just a few.’ She grinned.

He grinned back. ‘Do people ask you if you’ve read them all?’

‘All the time!’ Jess replied, laughing. Non-bibliophiles found it hard to grasp why someone would need quite so many books, especially if they hadn’t read all of them. She shook her head sadly. ‘They just don’t get it.’

‘No, they don’t…’ Tom agreed sadly.

 ‘Ooh, I nearly forgot! Any chance of a photo and an autograph for that Hiddlestoner daughter of mine?’

Tom willingly obliged, taking a selfie of them with her phone, his long right arm outstretched, pressing his head against hers, his other arm around her shoulder, pulling her close. All the oxygen had gone again. Duty done, Jess stretched her legs out, feeling stiff.

‘Shall we walk a little?’

Tom stood up and reached down to help her stand. She was only too happy to agree, as her bottom was getting numb.  They set out for a stroll, chatting animatedly about second-hand bookshops, another shared passion. They walked, they talked, they paused to sit on a bench and people-watch for a while, then they talked and walked some more. So absorbed in their conversation were they that when they reached the gates which led onto the Bayswater Road they were both amazed. It was almost 6pm; two hours had passed since they left the meeting but it seemed much less. And they had walked right around the park.

‘Wow! I’m sorry, I had no idea it was this late!’ Tom exclaimed.

_He’s going to leave now. I don’t want him to._

Jess felt a physical pain at the thought.

‘That’s fine. I didn’t have any plans,’ she said. ‘My daughter’s working this evening. It’s been lovely, anyway.’

He smiled that stunning smile, the one that made her heart stop for a moment.

‘It has,’ he said, ‘In that case, you must let me buy you dinner. It’s the least I can do for monopolising your time all afternoon.’

_The least he can do? Doesn’t he realise that there is nowhere I’d rather be than here, now, in his company? Preferably for ever?_

‘It’s been my pleasure, really, but thanks, I’d love to!’

Tom knew a little Italian trattoria just around the corner, so after a drink in the pub opposite the park gates, he and Jess were shown to a quiet corner table and began perusing the menu. Despite the occasionally overwhelming attraction she felt, she was finding it easy to talk to him. He was funny and charming, that much she had known already, but he also had a burning intelligence and curiosity about everything. He was a natural scholar, Frances had told her, and now she was seeing it at first hand. They spent most of the meal talking about various Shakespeare productions they had seen. Jess loved to see his face light up when he spoke about his process of preparation for a role.

‘I like to immerse myself in the character’s world, that’s why I was curious about your research methods. They sound quite similar to mine.’

‘Well, I’ve got a bit of my source material on my laptop,’ she said, ‘if you’re interested. It’s back at the hotel, but..?’

‘Could I see it?’ He looked excited at the prospect.


	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the privacy of Jess's hotel room, Tom makes a shocking confession.

It was still light when they left the restaurant, and as her hotel wasn’t far, they decided to walk. Jess was glad she had chosen to wear her Birkenstocks. She had no idea this morning that she would be walking so much today. Their companionable chatting continued, moving onto to a discussion of food and wine. They had a friendly disagreement about whether or not it is acceptable to serve a bought dessert at a dinner party. Jess took the French view that such things were best left to the professionals on the whole, whereas Tom felt that if you were cooking for someone then you should go the whole hog. They were still arguing when they reached Jess’s hotel.

‘Come on in.’

Jess beckoned him through the door, giving thanks it was a suite, so they wouldn’t have to perch on the bed. That would have been way too much to take.

‘Can I get you anything? A hot drink? Or something from the minibar? It’s all on Richard,’ she added, winking. 

‘In that case, I’d love a whisky.’

She opened her laptop and found the folder she needed.

‘Graham tells me they are basing your role on Henri LeFèvre. Would you like to see what I’ve got on him?’

She passed the computer to Tom who began scanning the documents while she poured their drinks. Jess opted for a gin and tonic. She didn’t usually drink after dinner, but this was different; there were nerves that needed settling. She sat on the sofa opposite where Tom was sitting at the narrow table.

On file, she had LeFèvre’s arrest warrant, his execution order (never carried out, as he escaped from prison) and the testimonies of several people who knew him, taken after the war. Some of those were tough to read, and after a few minutes watching Tom she saw him reach for his glass and take a gulp. His eyes were glistening.

‘You’ve got to the bit about his girlfriend, haven’t you?’

Tom nodded, apparently unable to speak. The SS had arrested her in an attempt to get Henri to hand himself in after the escape. But the couple had an understanding that should anything like that happen they would not surrender, as they were both too important to the cause. Nicole was tortured for several days, then reported as having been shot trying to escape, which was the standard euphemism for a death in custody. Tom seemed to have recovered himself.

‘Sorry, I’d forgotten about that and it rather caught me out.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Is there any chance you could send me any of this stuff? The book is great, but as you say, there’s no substitute...’

‘Of course. What’s your email, I’ll do it now.’

After she sent the documents, Tom continued reading for a bit then shut the laptop and stood up. He seemed nervous and began pacing. The room was large but not enormous and with his long legs he only took a few strides to cross it. He appeared to be wrestling with something, and then to have come to a decision. He stopped in front of where Jess sat on the sofa.

‘Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?’

Jess frowned.

_I thought we had been getting personal all afternoon and evening, but hey..._

‘Not at all, but I can’t guarantee you an answer,’ she replied, smiling. She had been teasing, so she was amazed to see him blush.

He coughed again. ‘Your book jackets say that you live alone. Is there anyone in your life?’

_What is he asking me? Am I hearing this?_

‘A man, I mean... or a woman, of course.’

Jess tried to process this strange turn of events. ‘Er, no.’ she continued. ‘I haven’t had so much as a date since my divorce, actually.’

_Shut up! You sound pathetic. Oh god, oh god, what is happening?_

Tom looked genuinely astonished. ‘What? A beautiful woman like you?’ He shook his head in disbelief. Jess had no idea how to respond to this. She could not think of a single word in any language for several seconds. ‘I have a confession to make. I was at the meeting today...’ He paused, reconsidering. ‘No. To be 100% accurate, I got involved in the project mainly because I wanted to meet you.’ He stopped, looking at her intently, as if trying to judge her reaction. He sat down next to her on the small sofa. ‘I read your book, all your books and I did love them. I loved this one in particular; it made an excellent counterpoint to my work when I was reading it.’

Intrigued, she asked ‘Which was..?’

‘The Avengers’. He smiled.  ‘Then I saw you on The Daily Show...’

_Ah..._

‘…and I said to my friend Chris, “I have to meet her.”’

 ‘I see.’ _I don’t see at all..._

‘I thought you were the most attractive woman I’d ever seen.’ Jess felt the room tilting, and was grateful she was seated. Otherwise she would have been in a heap on the floor. Tom edged closer to her and put his hand on her cheek. ‘I think you like me too, unless I’ve really lost my touch and misread the situation…’

Jess shook her head. “No, you haven’t misread it, not at all.’

He smiled shyly. ‘In that case, I’d really like to do something I’ve been wanting to do all day. I’d like to kiss you now, if that’s ok.’

His eyes were fixed on hers. She looked at his mouth, felt the room start to spin faster, and only managed a slight nod of her head. She closed her eyes as he leaned forward and their lips met.

Every sensation she had felt when they had touched up until then faded away with the onslaught of desire which seemed to permeate every molecule of her body, radiating from her mouth. His lips were soft, but he kissed her firmly and his tongue explored her mouth, at first tentatively, then wholeheartedly. They paused for breath and she looked at his beautiful face.

‘Tom, I… I can’t believe...’

He cut her off with another kiss and his hands began to run over her body, restlessly as if he couldn’t decide where to caress her.

_This is like a dream. A very nice dream._

His hands were in her hair, on her back, touching her thighs. She had never wanted a man more, but she knew this had to stop. Jess broke away from him and stood up.

‘What’s wrong darling?’ he gasped, looking up at her anxiously.

‘Tom, Tom. I’m 49. I’ve had two babies. I used to be much fatter.’ She breathed.  ‘You really don’t want _me._ Seriously _.’_

‘Do you really think I’m that shallow?’ he asked, obviously hurt.

‘That’s not what I meant. It’s just that...’

_How can I tell him? I can’t bear the thought of his face if he saw all those saggy, flabby bits._

‘You’re so...’ She searched for the right words. ‘...so perfect, and I’m...not.’

_Well that was lame. But how can I make him understand that I just couldn’t bear it?_

‘It’s not true, but anyway I don’t care about any of that, I just knew when I saw you talking to Jon Stewart you were the woman for me. That mind, that laugh, that sexy mouth...’He stopped, gazing longingly at her. ‘When Graham said what his next job was, I couldn’t believe my luck. I used all the contacts I had to get in on it, just to meet you.’ He paused again, noticing a hint of alarm on her face. ‘I’m sorry; I know that makes me sound like a stalker. But it was too good a chance to pass up. And I am genuinely interested in doing the film as well.’

Jess sighed. This was really hard to get her head around.

‘Then I saw the email about today and invited myself. I hope I’m not frightening you.’

He looked worried. Jess’s mind was working overtime. She wanted him so much, and it seemed he was really keen on her, but she simply could not face the rejection which would follow any undressing. Not to mention Anna. How on earth would she explain any of this to her?

_Anna!_

Jess had completely forgotten to text her. They had agreed to chat before the night shift. Jess dug her phone out of her bag and switched it on. Two messages and one missed call, all from her eldest.

‘Oh bugger.’

‘What is it darling?’ Tom asked.

 ‘It’s ok, I just forgot to ring my daughter earlier, before she went to work. I’d better just text her or she’ll worry.’ She read the messages and saw that Anna was already worried.

  * **_All ok just couldn’t get away after mtg. Went v well xx_**



Jess put the phone down and looked at Tom who was still looking anxiously up at her.

‘Tom.’

 She sat down beside him again. Her knees were jelly once more as he took her hands in his. She looked into those wonderful eyes and felt herself drifting off from reality.

‘I know I’ve dropped this on you all at once,’ he said, squeezing her hands. ‘I’ve had three years to realise how I feel about you. I can tell you like me...’ he hesitated, looking at her uncertainly.

‘Dear god, Tom, a woman would have to be made of stone!’ Jess could barely stop herself from shouting.

 ‘...but I understand you need time to think about this.’

He undermined this last statement by kissing her passionately again. Jess felt herself weakening. It took all her strength not to push her hands up under his shirt. As it was, she returned the kiss hungrily, running her fingers through his curls, caressing his stubbly cheek, breathing him in. She sensed that if she touched the skin on his body she would be lost, and that expectation of rejection speared her heart like a knife. He’d be nice about it, polite as he was, but she’d see it in his face.

‘I understand what’s bothering you.’

He spoke softly, pulling her into his chest and kissing the top of her head. She luxuriated in the smell of him, the firmness of his chest and arms, the touch of his neck against her forehead. She listened to his heart beating quite quickly near her ear.

‘You have no need to worry.’

 He lifted her chin and kissed her, this time softly but long and slow. It felt as if time had stopped. Then something occurred to her and she laughed. Tom looked startled.

‘Alex was right all along.’


	5. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after. Jess goes to Tom's flat to talk it through, but can she resist?

Jess lay in the dark, watching the flickering patches of light on the ceiling. Only 24 hours earlier she had inhabited a very different universe, one in which Tom Hiddleston was a distant fantasy figure. A delightful, gorgeous man whose smile brightened her day from Tumblr or Facebook. Or whose impressions or dancing made her laugh on lonely evenings snuggled up with YouTube. Now she had been sucked into a wormhole like the one the Bifrost made to bring Thor to Earth. And the situation felt about as real as the movie, apart from the pain she was in. She could smell Tom on her clothes when she undressed, and she couldn’t stop thinking about the kisses they had shared. And about how they had made her feel.

Jess had given up on men after her divorce. She had no problem with them; it was just that she was too busy working, and then once in France, too cut off to find one. And at her age, the choice wasn’t that great. She got the occasional proposition but nothing that was welcome, and so she had pragmatically packed up that aspect of her life and put it in storage. She admired plenty of men, found some attractive but they weren’t a part of her daily life.

She had first spotted Tom Hiddleston when he played Magnus in _Wallander_. She loved Ken Branagh so persisted with the series even though she found it slightly depressing. It was very good, well-written and acted, and she couldn’t help noticing the rather beautiful young actor playing the junior policeman.  Fast-forward a couple of years, and she read some cracking reviews of a production of Othello he was in. No luck getting tickets sadly, and Tom went off her radar until The Hollow Crown, when Frances suddenly became very proprietorial about him. When Jess realised there was a Benjamin Britten connection (Tom’s grandfather was the first administrator of the Aldeburgh Festival and a friend of Britten and Peter Pears) she got really interested. Britten was one of her favourite composers and the idea of a handsome, sexy, talented, intelligent and _cultured_ actor, well... When Anna started posting stuff on Facebook about Loki in Thor, it didn’t take Jess long to put the pieces together. In fact, at one point Jess had wondered if he might be gay, he seemed so perfect. ‘No!’ was the firm response from her daughter. Now Jess could vouch for that personally, not that she could imagine telling Anna that.

_Oh yes, I know he’s straight, in fact he made a pass at me... No. Anna can never know._

Jess heard her phone buzz. It was still on the side table by the sofa. She got up and found it by the light from outside.

  * _R u ok?_



It was from Tom. What could she say to that?

_No, I’ll never be OK again. The man of my dreams has told me he wants me but I know he won’t once he sees what’s under the lycra._

  * **_I can’t sleep._**



She had typed it and sent it without thinking.

  * _I’m so sorry. But I had to tell you._
  * **_I understand but_**



She couldn’t find the words.

  * _Can I see you tmrw?_
  * **_Yes_**
  * _You can come here. More private._
  * **_Ok_**
  * _Ill ring you in the morning Tx_



Jess sat down on the sofa. She was naked, as it was a warm night and that was her usual habit. She looked down at herself. Sedentary jobs, two pregnancies and a lifetime of comfort eating had taken their toll. She had lost a lot of weight in the last five years, and was reasonably fit these days, but everything had begun its inexorable journey south. It hadn’t mattered a day earlier, but now this Adonis wanted to make love to her. How could she let him see this mess? A single tear started from her eye and the sensation seemed to open the floodgates. She rocked herself, sobbing deeply. She hadn’t cried like this since the divorce. To have the prospect of something so wonderful dangled into front of you, knowing you could never have it; it was too cruel. ‘Oh Tom.’ She slipped back into bed, eventually drifting off to sleep still snuffling as she remembered the feel of his lips on hers.

She must have slept soundly in the end because she was woken at 8.30 by some guests passing her door, talking. Her phone rang. She heard that lovely voice in her ear.

‘Good morning my darling. Did you get any sleep?’

‘Some, eventually.’

‘Me too. Will you come?’

 ‘I’ve only just woken up, but yes, I will. We need to talk this through.’

She wrote down his address, then got up, showered and dressed. She decided not to have breakfast as she didn’t think she could eat anything. When she had opened the bathroom door after hanging up the phone, she had caught sight of her morning self in the huge mirror and snorted with laughter. Her hair was sticking up, her face was even more creased and blotchy than usual.

_How absurd. No._

The day before when Jess was dressed and made up she had been satisfied with her reflection. Today she saw only her imperfections and they were legion. Nevertheless, she made the best of a bad job and set off to find a cab.

Tom must have been waiting by the door or had seen her coming because he answered her ring almost immediately. He buzzed her in and she climbed to the second floor of the modern block. He was at the door when she turned the corner at the top of the stairs, slightly out of breath. Seeing him looking so wonderful, so young and fit, she had never felt older. As she reached him, he pulled her into the flat, shut the door and kissed her passionately.  Her resolve was swept away the moment his lips met hers and she returned the kiss ardently. She wouldn’t have thought it possible, but it seemed her restraint of the previous night must have come as a result of being accustomed to his presence. Now she saw him, felt him again she lost all self-control. He was wearing a running vest and joggers and her hands were all over him. He broke off from kissing her mouth to work his way down her neck. She had chosen a cotton blouse to wear and Jess suddenly became aware he was undoing the buttons.

‘Please don’t, ’she begged him.

Tom opened his eyes and looked into hers. ’I know you think I’ll be disappointed but I won’t,’ he said softly. ‘It’s you, and it’s you I want.’

‘But Tom, I’m old enough to...’ she began.

He put his finger over her lips to still her, shaking his head slightly. ‘Ssshh. I don’t care. When it’s right, it’s right, and stuff like that doesn’t matter.’ And then he was kissing her again. Against everything her body was screaming, she broke away. Caressing his cheek, she looked around her.

_He wasn’t kidding about the books!_

They were on every surface: the table, the shelves, the chairs, the floor. Jess felt very at home.

‘Show me round.’

He acceded to her demand, but he never broke contact. One or other of his hands was always touching her, sometimes both. Jess was congratulating herself on this tactic until they reached the bedroom. She realised her mistake when he pulled her to him once more and this time her remaining will-power was exhausted. He covered her face and neck with light kisses, then crushed his lips against hers.  He finished undoing her blouse and his breathing became more laboured as his hands ran over her bare skin. She felt him feel for the fastener of her bra. This was what she had dreaded. She tensed, barely able to breathe. But no, the bra was gone and he was looking, but nothing else had changed. He was still caressing and kissing her, still breathing heavily. She suddenly realised how long it had been since she had slept with someone for the first time. _Way too_ _long_.

_What if I mess it up?_

Treacherous tears welled up. Tom was trying to manoeuvre her gently nearer to the bed when he saw the look on her face.

 ‘Oh my darling Jess, it’s ok.’ He kissed her neck gently.

‘But it’s been too long. I don’t know how to anymore.’

‘It’s OK, it’s like riding a bike.’ With that, he pushed slightly so she felt the bed behind her. She reached down and pulled his top over his head, then ran her hands over his beautiful torso and stomach, making him gasp. Now it was her turn to cover him with kisses.

_Fuck, he smells divine._

Tom moaned, then pulled her face back up to his. Kissing more ardently than ever, he pressed his knees against her legs until she fell back onto the bed, and he followed her. And then she knew it was going to be alright. His lips found her breasts (it didn’t seem to matter how they looked) and she could feel his hardness against her leg. She reached down.

_He’s right. You don’t forget._

 

Sometime later, as they lay entwined, Jess snuggling against Tom’s chest, he kissed the top of her head and whispered. ‘You can’t imagine how many times I’ve fantasised this.’

 It was her turn to chuckle. ‘You really have no idea, do you?’ she said. She lifted herself up on one elbow to look at his face. ‘How many Twitter followers have you got nowadays?’

‘Er, not sure…’

‘Several hundred thousand at least, and I’d be willing to bet that at least half of them would give their eye-teeth to be where I am right now. Male or female...’

He blushed endearingly, then stretched up to kiss her mouth. ‘Well even if that’s true, the only one I want is you.’

 

‘Are you hungry?’  Tom was looking at the contents of the fridge, while Jess was mooching around the kitchen, checking out his batterie de cuisine.

‘A bit, I skipped breakfast.’

‘I’ve got bread, cheese, fruit..?’

‘Yes please!’ she answered. He laughed and began assembling lunch.  A muffled sound from the sitting room made Jess look round.

_That sounds like ‘Advance Australia Fair’._

‘Oops. That’s the text alert for Hemsworth.’ Tom loped over and returned with his phone, reading and chuckling as he walked. Jess gave him a quizzical look.

‘He was asking how it went.’

‘It?’

‘Yesterday. I told him I was going to meet you at last.

 ‘He knows about me?’

‘Of course. I’ve been going on about you ever since _The Daily Show_. He kept telling me to do something about it, and when I told him you were coming to London he said “Seize the day, mate”.’

The impression was perfect.

‘So I have Thor to thank for this then...’

Tom was tapping the screen, smiling to himself. ‘What are you saying?’ Jess felt a little uncomfortable; this new information was rather unsettling. 

‘Don’t worry. I’m just telling him it went better than I’d hoped, eventually.’ He winked at her, grinning a wicked grin that Loki would have been proud of. The phone chimed again. Tom glanced at the screen and laughed heartily. ‘He says “hi”.’ Jess blushed to her roots.

As they ate, Jess began to think about her daughters. She’d have to tell them something. If they found out any other way it would be awful, and she wouldn’t be able to hide it from them in any case.  

‘You’re very quiet darling.’

‘Just wondering what happens next.’

He shrugged. ‘No idea. You tell me. All I know is I never want to be any further from you than I am right now.’ He reached across the table and took hold of her hand. ‘Not for longer than is strictly necessary, anyway. I’ve wasted too much time already.’ He stood up and walked round to where she sat and put his arms around her. Again she felt the thrill of his touch, as if for the first time. Jess felt a lump in her throat. No one had ever said anything so romantic to her before.  She stood up and they kissed hungrily.

_If I die now, I’m OK with that._

But she didn’t die. Instead, Tom leaned back and looked at her.

‘Fancy a walk?’


	6. Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A crisis of confidence, a sharing of news.

Ten minutes later they were strolling into a nearby park. Tom had promised ice cream and it was definitely the weather for it. The grass was covered with sunbathers, lovers, children and dogs, and the warm air was filled with summer noise. Shrieks of laughter, barking and muffled music from passing iPods.

They walked a little apart. It was agony not touching him, but there was no need to draw attention. If anyone looked twice Tom might be recognised and then what? Jess was mulling all this over as they descended the slight gradient to the ice cream stand. She was still coming to terms with what was happening, but if the media – or worse still, the internet – got wind of it, well. No fangirl was going to be pleased to see Tom with an old woman on his arm.

_Oh god. I hadn’t thought about what other people would think, I’ve been so wrapped up in my own insecurities!_

Jess stopped walking.

‘Everything OK?’ he asked, looking concerned. 

 ‘Not sure. Suddenly hit me.’

‘What did?’

‘You. Me. Twitter. Facebook. Oh dear, Tumblr!’ she said quietly. People were walking past them.

Tom sighed. ‘Yeah. We’re going to have to work this out,’ he said in a resigned tone.

Jess began to feel very exposed, as if everyone in the park was looking at them. They weren’t, she could see that, but still...

‘Do you mind if we go back?’

‘Of course not. No problem.’

 

Back in the relative safety of the flat, Jess picked up her phone. She looked at Tom, a serious expression on her face.

‘I’m going to have to tell Anna and Sally. Today.’ She paused. He raised an eyebrow.

‘Not sure how, but still it must be done.’  

‘I agree. Personally, I’d like to take out a full-page ad in tomorrow’s Times, but I’m guessing from the look on your face that you’re not on board for that. Eheheh.’ He was laughing at her horrified expression.

‘Look, is the London one working today?’ he continued. 

‘Sally? Yes, until four I think.  

‘Why don’t we FaceTime her or something? Or we could meet her later.’

Jess pondered for a bit. ‘It’s hard to think of a way of doing it without producing you like a rabbit out of a hat.’ She spread her arms in an extravagant gesture. ‘Tadaa!’

Tom giggled. ‘I see what you mean.’

Leaving Jess to mull it over, Tom pottered about in the kitchen making tea and texting. By the time she had finished her drink, she had a plan. She texted both girls, arranging to meet Sally later and asking Anna for FaceTime.

Both responded eagerly to her texts. They were intrigued, as she knew they would be.

A few minutes later, after arrangements had been made to meet Sally for dinner, it was time to call Anna. This was going to be difficult as she was a really big fan of Tom’s.  Strangely, she seemed to guess what was coming when Jess began to break the news.

‘I think I already know what you’re going to say, Mum. I think I recognise that kitchen.’ She was looking intently at her screen.

_Ah yes, the UNICEF video blog._

‘You’re at his place, right?’ she asked.  Jess turned the iPad and she saw her daughter’s pretty face light up.

‘Great to meet you, Anna. I’ve heard a lot about you,’ Tom said, beaming that smile, the one that had melted a million hearts.

‘All good, I hope.’

‘Of course,’ Jess butted in. 

‘Well Mum, you never do things by halves. No bloke for years, then straight to the God of Tumblr.’ Anna shook her head, making her dark hair shimmer.

‘I don’t have to tell you to keep this to yourself. You can tell Pete, but no one else can know.’

‘I’m not stupid. It’s going to be rough, you know that,’

‘We’re hoping to put that off for a while,’ said Tom.’ And we’ll have each other.’

_He’s talking like we’re a couple._

‘Look, we don’t know what’s going to happen, we only met yesterday,’ Jess reminded them both. ’I just felt you and your sister had to hear it from me first.’

Anna looked as if she might be close to tears.  ‘I’m so happy for you, Mum. You deserve this. Go for it.’

 ‘Have a good shift darling’

‘Thanks. I suppose Sally’s going to meet him first.’ She pouted into the camera.

‘’Fraid so, we’re having dinner tonight. That’s when we’ll tell her, so don’t say anything yet.’

‘Damn. Oh well.’

‘Oh I nearly forgot. I’ve got an autograph and a pic for you.’

 ‘An autograph?’ She looked incredulous.

‘Yes, well, I got them from him before, you know, I knew... I thought you’d kill me if I didn’t.’

‘True. I would have.’

That had gone infinitely better than she’d hoped, and Jess began to relax. Whatever happened now, her girls were going to be OK with it. She and Tom settled comfortably on the sofa and he scratched his beard thoughtfully.

‘What shall we do to pass the time until dinner?’

Jess thought she had a pretty good idea.


	7. Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three months have passed, and it's time for the world to know.

Three months later, Jess was lying in her own bed. Tom was beside her, nuzzling her neck. It was indescribably wonderful to wake up with him in her own home. Somehow, seeing him amongst her belongings, lounging his long legs on her chairs made it all so much more real. The dogs loved him, of course and Tom seemed to enjoy his visits to her tiny village.

When she had first returned from London in July, Tom had not been able to travel with her as he was busy with commitments, but he had booked rail tickets for two days later. Jess had begun to feel insecure again, so much so that by the time she had parked her car at the station and walked to the platform to meet the TGV, she was certain he would realise his mistake when he saw her and that would be that. So when he dropped his bags and embraced her so tightly her feet lifted off the ground she was awash with relief. And when, as they descended the steps towards the car park, he whispered in her ear ‘How long until I can have you?’ she knew everything was as it had been.

This visit was even briefer than usual. The Paris première of _Thor: The Dark World_ was that evening, and they were both heading up to the capital shortly. She kissed his forehead.

‘Tom darling, if you want a run you’ll have to go now, the car will be here at 10.’

It was still early, but Jess had to drop the dogs off and have her hair done. Today was going to be The Day.

Tom had been talking about when and how they should ‘come out’ for weeks. He argued that if they chose the time they could keep some control. So far they had been able to keep their relationship a secret from all but the few friends and family they had chosen to tell. Jess thought this was because anyone who might see something would never think it likely, but in fact they had been extremely discreet. Jenny and her husband, who would be looking after the dogs, knew, but other local friends who had met Tom had no idea who he was, or that they were a couple. This was great, but it couldn’t last. So they had agreed that this was a good time. No announcements, just holding hands on the red carpet, perhaps a kiss, then off to the party after the film. Let the paps and journos make of it what they wanted. Tom’s PR people and Jess’s agent had statements ready if the press asked.

As she showered, she began to realise she was becoming very tense. She had lost her anxieties about how Tom might feel about her age and her appearance, but this?

_We love each other, that’s all that matters. And I’m a big girl, I can cope._

But she had never done anything like this before. She was going to meet all kinds of famous people, and be photographed...

_Oh god, oh god._

The dogs loaded in the car, she drove to her friends’ farm.

‘We’ll be watching the internet later for the explosion!’ said Jenny, hugging her tightly.  

Jess drove on to her hairdresser. Marie-Hélène had been the first person to guess she had a man in her life in the summer, or at least the first to ask her; she must have been glowing when she returned from London. As she had her hair shampooed, she told the coiffeuse that she was going to Paris for a party tonight, and that’s why she had made the appointment.  

‘Will you be in Paris-Match next week?’ Marie-Hélène joked.

_Just maybe..._

An hour later, she and Tom were locking up and getting into the car which had been sent to drive them to the capital. Jess had no idea what she would be wearing later, as Marvel had arranged for a stylist to help her out, at Tom’s suggestion. He didn’t want to change her, but he had rightly guessed that she’d be happier if she was looking her best. In fact, this was the one thing she was really looking forward to, although she’d been told she couldn’t keep the clothes and jewellery. Hearing this he had murmured in her ear, ‘I’ll buy them for you if you love them.’ Her stomach still did that flipping over thing when he did things like that.

They were staying at a very grand hotel, and as the car drew up outside, they could see there were a handful of fans waiting for Tom. He went over and did his thing, while Jess quietly slipped into the lobby with Luke, Tom’s publicist. They went straight up to the room, where a short, round kindly Frenchwoman was waiting with a rack of dresses and boxes of shoes.

The show started at 6, so there wasn’t too much time to kill before they were suited, booted and on their way. Chris and Elsa Hemsworth were staying elsewhere, so Jess would be meeting them for the first time on the red carpet. She felt Tom’s eyes on her and turned to look at him shyly.

‘You look amazing,’ he said, his eyes shining.

For once she believed him. She and Madame had chosen a wine-red dress which fitted in all the right places, making the most of her assets and covering the rest. Large jet drop earrings matched the hair ornament and necklace.  A black silk stole and shoes completed the outfit. She felt like a queen. Tom, of course, looked utterly gorgeous in his evening suit.

They were getting near, and had joined a slow-moving queue of limos.

‘Keep hold of me, if they ask you any questions, just answer honestly.’

He kissed her softly and then Jess quickly checked her hair and make-up. She was happy she looked as good as possible.

_Not good enough, but you can’t turn back time..._

Suddenly the door was opening and the noise was deafening. Flashes were going off from all sides. Tom stepped out and the noise got even louder. He turned back and reached for her hand. Jess swallowed hard, steeled herself, and stepped out into the limelight for the first time. Waving to the crowds, Tom tucked Jess’s left hand under his right elbow, pulling her against his side. Smiling happily, he turned and kissed her full on the lips .He whispered in her ear.

‘We don’t want there to be any confusion, ehehehe.’

The cameras flashed more than ever and the line of interviewers began calling Tom’s name.  At that moment the next limo arrived and the giant frame of Chris Hemsworth got out. He turned and helped his pregnant wife to exit the car. When they saw Jess and Tom they walked straight over. Chris kissed her on both cheeks.

 ‘So great to finally meet you in person. You don’t know how happy you’ve made him.’

He jerked his head in Tom’s direction. Elsa said much the same.

‘He drove Chris mad talking about you. What a crush he had! We’re so glad it’s worked out for you.’

Jess didn’t know what to say. She was still processing the fact that she had been a part of Tom’s life years before they met, for almost as long as he had been in hers.  

‘Some things are just meant to be, Elsa.’  Tom was beaming.

Back on his arm, Jess allowed Tom to guide her towards the bank of microphone-wielding reporters. The first few ignored her, which was a relief, but then he seemed to decide to force the issue by kissing her on the cheek and putting his arm even tighter around her waist,

‘Will you introduce us to your date, Tom?

The lovely lady from _TF2_ was smiling expectantly at them.

 ‘This is Dr Jess Hancock, my girlfriend.’

Jess was stunned. Hadn’t they agreed that they were going to let it sort of leak out slowly? She could see a few nearby people madly tapping their phones and knew she was being googled. She heard the French journalist rapidly translating what he had said.

 ‘And how did you guys meet?’ Tom nudged her. The question was for her.

‘Um, well, Tom’s going to be in a film I’m, er, advising on.’

_Great, you sound like a moron._

‘That’s great. Now Tom, tell us how it was playing Loki again.’

The reporter had turned her attention back to the big star, thank goodness. Happily, no one else asked her anything, except the guy from Vogue who wanted her to confirm who made her dress. Every now and then she could hear Chris’s booming voice behind her or to her side. She glanced round and caught his eye once or twice. He and Elsa smiled back encouragingly. The doors of the theatre were getting close now, and looking in that direction she suddenly spotted the tiny figure of Natalie Portman. As she did so, Natalie seemed to stop and do a double-take, speak to the man she was with, then run over to them.

‘You must be Tom’s Jess! The historian! It’s so great to meet you at last.’

_Dear god, he’s told everyone about me!_

‘He would not shut up about you,’ Natalie continued, especially after he found out about the movie of your book. That was his best Christmas present ever!’ The beautiful actress laughed and reached up and kissed Tom then Jess, then Chris and Elsa.

‘Did you tell everyone on this movie about your feelings for me?’ she asked him in a hoarse whisper. They were walking up the steps to the doors of the theatre.

‘Not everyone, no. I don’t think I mentioned you to the electricians.’ Tom elbowed Jess gently in the ribs, leading her up the steps and into the foyer. It was thronged with people, glittering in shiny dresses, dinner suits, cameras flashing, the chandeliers shimmering.

_Well, Jessica, this is your world now._

They paused and looked around at the other couples. She felt Tom take a deep breath and then he bent down and kissed her temple softly. ‘Thanks for coming tonight. It means so much to have you here with me. I never want to do this alone again. I want you with me, always, my Jess.’

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Long and Winding Road](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16922265) by [LateStarter58](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LateStarter58/pseuds/LateStarter58)




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